A Warrior's Accord
by QuidditchNut
Summary: An accident in the Temple ravine helps Aang come to an understanding. Zutara.. sort of. Spoilers for 3-12 onwards.
1. A Warrior's Accord

A Warrior's Accord

Toph felt it first.

Attuned as she was to the stable, natural contours of the land around her, the dislodgement of so much earth, even distant, sent a trembling message through her feet.

She thought little of it. Landslides occurred frequently around the precariously designed Temple. The woody ravine below them was cluttered with jagged chunks of rock; its river clogged with stone and silt that tumbled down off the cliffside. Sparing it no more than a moment's note, she returned to picking tick-beetles out of Appa's fur, expertly flicking the largest at the back of Aang's passing head.

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Zuko realised first.

It was utterly out of the blue. One moment, he was rhythmically sliding his whetstone down over the sword propped on his knee, silently occupied with the task and ignoring the passing hours of dozy, humdrum cacophony. The next, he lifted his head and asked no one in particular, "Where's the waterbender?" They were the first words he had uttered in half a day.

Sokka looked up from his engrossing toenail examination by the ostensibly napping Toph, and blinked in faint surprise. It seemed as if the hoarse, clipped inquiry had suddenly reminded him of Zuko's continued persistence in no longer existing only in moments they were actively running for their lives. Toph swore she heard the pause in Sokka's brain, and indulged in a languid eyeroll under the forearms folded over her face. "Didn't she climb down the canyon to pick berry-roots or something for lunch?" Sokka eventually replied unconcernedly, pulling himself to his feet and rubbing his grumbling stomach.

It took only moments. Her quick mind put the necessary pieces together with a speedy, horrible comprehension. Toph slowly sat up on her sleeping roll. All thoughts of feigned sleep cast themselves off with a sickening clunk.

"She did," Zuko replied tersely. He leaned out of his stone perch to view the sky from behind a shading hand. "Five hours ago," he clarified, not turning back to speak.

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Sokka spotted her first.

His shrill, desperate shout brought Aang swooping down from the sky, and the other two running. Their feet slipped and stumbled awkwardly on the sloped, loose shale, ankles twisting painfully.

They pulled her out with all the gentleness that could be wrung from the art of earthbending. The rocks, freshly torn from their homes of millennium, ominous and unyielding, clattered away down the steep incline as she was prised from their cruel hold. Zuko, the closest and seeming to lack anything more appropriate to do, carefully gathered her up from the bed of sharp, shorn stone. Toph lowered her hands and turned to the airbender, hearing his first rush of tears breaking free.

"Aang?" she asked, her small whisper almost reverent. "Is it really bad?"

Zuko answered firmly when Aang seemed unable. "Yes. Of course it is."

Sokka bit down on his lip fiercely, turning and tightly shutting his eyes. He attempted to yoke his brain into remembering the context of the world around him, to not shatter into hopeless, unsalvageable pieces. Not yet. He forcefully thrust the picture of a mangled sister away - he needed to think, to focus.

"Water," he finally said. "We need to get her to water. She might be able to heal herself."

When he turned back around, Zuko had already started down the ruined hillside, commanding Aang irritably over his shoulder to find him the quickest path to the river. His light steps began to negotiate new paths through the debris as though demons harried at his back. Sokka and Toph scrambled after him, struggling to keep pace with the agile, fleet-footed boy.

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Aang looked up at Toph knelt on the churned, wet bank, one arm plunged in the brown water. He could feel the stirred silt with a waterbending caress, and felt oddly compelled to sieve the river clean. He looked down at the barely recognisable, still infinitely familiar face by his side, supported only in the gently insistent current by himself and her brother. He wondered if the silt would itch her. The last rational corner of his mind raged at him for caring about something as wholly unconnected to this nightmare as dirt. But the rest of him that was not thinking about dirt was buckling and weeping, unable to stop.

He looked up at Toph again. He had to ask.

How could he not, though there was no answer to be had that wouldn't potentially raze his last shred of bravery?

"Toph... why couldn't you find her, when she was under the rock?" It was less a question and more of a statement, already designed for the reply.

The little blind girl shook her head angrily, wet hair flapping across useless eyes. "She's alive, Aang. We've just got to wake her up! She's healed worse before!" Her lips pressed together until they were bloodless, but even so, her jaw wavered.

Aang considered himself answered.

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The dusty, waning sunlight filtered through the ceiling of tree branches.

"Katara? Come on, wake up now." Sokka tried again. The pleas were becoming progressively less coherent, and a great deal more despairing. "Please, Katara? It's not so bad, is it?" The questions were slightly breathless, teetering delicately over the wrong edge of panic. "You've got just to wake up."

She slept on, and on.

They didn't dare shake her. They didn't dare touch her with anything but a feather-light anchor on the upper arms. It wasn't sleep; rather, a macabre substitute from which no one could be sure she would awaken.

The scabbed blood that had stood as a weak barricade between her and the permanency of her slumber was swiftly coming loose, releasing little eddies of precious red water downstream.

Aang and Sokka began pressing their hands to where her skin no longer did its job. But they only had four hands.

Sokka shut his eyes again. "Toph?"

"Her heartbeat's still there. It's.. really weak. I think she's bleeding somewhere inside."

Sokka moaned, a wounded, indistinct sound. "Why won't she wake up! _Katara!_"

Aang inched closer to her again, grim and determined.

"Katara, you can't just leave us. We need _you." _Aang's voice cracked, eyes and nose streaming now. "What would we do without _you?_ You - you're everything to us. There's no way I would've learnt what I needed to about bending, or helped all those people, or even considered facing the Fire Nation if it wasn't for you." He swiped hopelessly at the steady well of tears impeding the sight of her broken body. It looked ridiculously small, here in the water. She'd always seemed so sturdy. Bigger than him. "How can I face the Fire Lord if you're not there with me?" He spoke in a half-whisper almost directly into her ear now, urgent and pleading. "I need you to be here to tell me what to do. You're my best friend, aren't you? Wake up! Please!"

She was silent.

And then, Aang was abruptly heaved out of the water by the back of his robes, a keen Earth Kingdom knife pressed to his throat in the same heartbeat.

"Waterbender!" Zuko's shout pierced the hushed fug, like strong hands tearing linen. "I've been waiting for this!" The airbender felt his robes being wound tightly within a fist, as the blade angled expertly to tap along the join of his neck and jaw.

Blank shock reigned over a stunned silence. Katara's head lolled in the water where Sokka's grip had loosened, and the firebender's mouth curled into an ugly sneer.

"The Avatar is mine, now." Aang's slack, teary face tightened in a wince as a strong arm crushed his ribcage. Slowly, confusion melted into a dawning horror.

Sokka's mouth dropped. "What... what do you think you're doing!?"

Toph's feet righted themselves under her, and she dropped into a half stance. "Talk fast, Hotman!" she warned.

Zuko threw Aang to the wet grass, levelling him with Katara. She bobbed gently in the water, boneless, like a puppet with cut strings. A swiftly planted knee in Aang's back knocked the breath from his lungs. The well-honed royal dagger slipped under his throat again as his head was roughly wrenched upwards, four fingers buried hard in his brow bone.

"I'm taking what is rightfully mine." Zuko spoke with an almost alien calmness, seemingly oblivious to the panic practically tangible in the air around him.

Katara's head twitched.

He spoke again, louder, his glare burrowing holes in Katara's slack, bruised face. "I'm taking what's mine, and no one can stop me. The Avatar's watchwolf has finally gone to sleep." He laughed sharply. "Look at you, waterbender! Lying stupid and senseless while I steal the Avatar right out from under you!"

Sokka gritted his teeth, his face a mask of misery. He began wading towards the bank, Katara drifting from his arms.

"Stay where you are, Sokka!" Toph's hand was still plunged in the water, her feet flat on the ground. "I've got this covered. Just keep holding onto her and don't let go! Got it?" She pinned him with a tight, sightless glare, as though daring him to disobey in such a moment.

Whether it was the shock of hearing her use his true name, or the iron in her voice that brooked no argument, Sokka stayed where he was. He gathered his limp, cold sister more closely into his chest.

Toph suddenly sucked in a sharp breath. "Her heartbeat… " The commanding tone had evaporated, the conclusion of her sentence seemingly with it. Toph's face lowered, her mouth contorting. "Sugar Queen?" she asked quietly.

And she whimpered. Like a little girl being buffeted in a crowd of strangers. It was very soft, but Aang heard it. The sound, emanating from _Toph_, was nothing short of terrifying.

Aang was half-blind with intense, surging fear. "Katara?" She was slack, and perfectly still.

His head slumped. Zuko's knife sliced a delicate red line into the soft skin of his neck.

"I had hoped for a rematch, you miserable _peasant!_ I had thought the protector of the Avatar would be worth fighting!" Zuko spat with practiced, imperious venom, once familiar but now oddly foreign on his raspy voice. "Are you good for nothing but idle threats, then? Even I, your enemy, expected more than this!" The prince's sweaty hand turned slightly on the handle of tooled pearl. "My father will roast his body and display it before the palace walls, you know," he concluded with a malevolent, biting whisper, leaning as far out towards the brother and sister as he dared.

Sokka let out a noise somewhere between a growl and a hiss, his tears flowing freely now. "You worthless, worthless firebender _scum!_ You cowardly bastard!" He pounded the river's surface with a fist. Zuko ignored him.

A brief, minute pulse of blue light. Toph's eyes widened under her wet fringe.

"You've failed him." His face twisted into a horrible mockery of a grin, brows drawn into an ugly, deep furrow. "You've failed the Avatar. His only defense, and you've fallen. How predictably pathetic." Aang tried to shake his head, but stopped with a hoarse cry as the keen blade dug into him anew. "The world is at the mercy of Fire Lord Ozai... and his _heirs_."

A flutter, this time. The weak light faded after a few moments.

"Don't listen to him, Katara! Please, _please_, just heal yourself! You've got to h - mmph!" Aang's voice was muffled as a hand clamped roughly over his face.

Seconds lengthened with painful precision as all eyes glued themselves to the floppy, paled form in Sokka's arms.

When nothing occurred further, Zuko dragged the still dripping Aang to his knees, both of them smeared with river mud. The prince stood behind the boy, his mouth now a grim, taut line. "Stand and fight, '_guardian!'_" He shouted angrily into the clearing. His voice seemed to swell beyond the capacity of the little copse, forcing all who heard him to cringe in deference. "Stand and fight me, or I'll cut his throat right here and drag his _corpse_ back to my father!"

A minute pulse of the water.

A faint wreath of light wrapping her hands.

Then nothing. No one breathed.

The soft sounds of the gurgling, oblivious river seemed deafening.

And then, Toph gasped into the silence. She felt what no one else could see - a slow, creeping current. It seemed leeched from the water, moving towards its master with an unnatural pull, tangling on her clothes and skin. It attached itself to her bare feet, the glow hardly visible in the dark murk. Weak at first, but steadily gathering speed, the translucent fluids trailed up her body, encasing each limb in sequence.

Sokka began reciting breathless encouragement, his voice still occasionally broken by a stray sob. "That's it, Katara, that's it... just keep going."

"I can hear something!" Toph cried excitedly. "Hold her head up so she can breathe, Snoozles!"

"I am, I am!" They both laughed in a choked, panicky way.

"Come on, Sugar Queen, keep it up!"

Aang fell on his haunches, his hands coming up to his eyes.

"It's getting stronger! Her heartbeat's getting stronger!"

"Look, her left arm! It's straightening!"

The dagger fell from his throat, coming to rest uneasily at its owners' side. With bowed head, the Avatar fervently mouthed silent praise, blessing and gratitude under Sokka and Toph's continued cataloguing, and offered it to whichever spirit had just granted him such a precious mercy.

Zuko's vicious golden stare had not wavered from the face of the waterbender for an instant.

The swirling mass of soothing, probing energies inched up her neck and swarmed quickly, gently over her face. The swollen flesh deflated back into the original curves of her brow and jaw, most of the small bruises shrinking into nothingness. The steady ooze of blood issuing from her nose ceased.

Her eyes opened.

Sokka let out a jubilant whoop. "Kata-"

A thick mass of water rose from the river. Before any of them could move, or speak, or think, it had elongated and frozen to a wicked needle tip, hard as folded steel, and plunged without preamble towards Zuko's chest with violent, inhuman speed.

Zuko leaped to the side, barely avoiding his death.

"Katara, wait!" Toph reacted first. A second coil of water was already rising, albeit far more slowly and sloppily. "He was lying the whole time! I could feel it!"

Aang crept forward on his hands and knees, sliding into the water and propping her up from the other side. Her eyes had not peeled themselves from Zuko; they were equal points of sharp, electric fury on her otherwise sagging face. The prince, chest heaving, was returning the stare with no less intensity. But she was already losing the battle to keep her eyes open; it seemed she was willing to bend again on sheer, bloody-minded will power.

Briefly looking from one to the other, Aang leaned forward and made hushing noises in her ear. "It's okay, Katara. I'm alright, see? You just need to rest now." She turned slightly at his voice. Her eyes left the wet, muddy boy standing on the bank with a knife in his hand only with great effort. She looked Aang up and down, her readied weapon already sinking back under the water. Apparently satisfying herself that he was in one piece, she passed out.

The ensuing shouts of panic were cut through by a quiet, authoritative tone.

"She's asleep, that's all. Get her out of the water."

The prince stood to the side with a grave, inscrutable expression as Sokka and Aang pulled her up onto the bank. She was laid amongst the driest grass they could find, the patches of bare dirt they walked on swiftly turning to mud. Sokka promptly turned on the firebender with a malicious glare. His mouth opened to unleash an enthusiastic stream of invective, noting the prince moving to crouch down.

Toph, in her infinite wisdom, sensed it. "Don't even start." Sokka redirected the glare to her, open-mouthed, which she returned only with an exhausted, uncharacteristically airy smile. "He can explain when there are less important things to worry about, idiot. I'll put him in a big rock vice while he does, if it'll make you feel better."

Sokka glanced back at Katara. He merely grumbled that it had better be a tight one as he returned to his sibling's side.

Zuko, ignoring them both, cast a critical eye over the steadily-breathing, supine form. "She needs blankets, and warm food. I don't think she should be moved far until she wakes up; there could still be wounds inside the body."

Toph seized Sokka by the arm as he began to protest. "Come on, Meathead. That's us."

"We can't leave her - "

"Sure we can. She's with friends. And I think you and I need to have a heart-to-heart before you decide to enact 'Water Tribesman Revenge' on Aang's only firebending teacher." With a firm, earthbender grip, and only the smallest and briefest of nods to Zuko, Toph steered a still gesticulating Sokka up the path towards the cliffside. The sounds of their ensuing argument faded into the dense forest.

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Aang removed his wet outer robe, and gently lifted Katara's head to pillow it beneath her. "She's so cold," he whispered.

Zuko knelt down, and shuffled closer. He held his hands out, and Aang watched their colour deepen to an unnatural red. When they smoldered, he lowered them and began to make passes up and down Katara's limp body. They hovered a handspan above the surface of her clothes, and steam began curling upwards in ropey tendrils.

Aang rubbed his throat where the blade had nicked him.

"What should I do if she, uh, tries something when she wakes up?"

"You don't do anything," Zuko responded quietly. "If she needs to cross elements with me, I will accept."

Aang crossed his arms. "What if she never forgives you? You told me you wanted to earn her trust. She'll hate you."

Zuko sat back, a pained kind of frustration evident on his mud-spotted, sweat-damp features. "I know!" he snapped. "But I did what was necessary!" His words were bitter, oddly desperate.

Aang jumped back at the flare of temper. It died quickly; even as he watched, Zuko seemed to dissolve rapidly into taciturn silence, his shoulders slumping slightly as he continued to wring the damp from Katara's tunic. His expression was blacker than Aang had ever seen it. He looked completely forlorn.

Aang bit his lower lip. "You didn't know it would work," he tentatively offered. "It was pretty brave, doing..." he trailed off, uncertain. "Well, whatever it was you did. Maybe if we talked to her, and explained what happened... ?"

"She won't trust me again, Aang. Even if she wanted to."

The younger boy shook his head, frustrated by the impossibly knotted web his dearest friend and his former pursuer had weaved between themselves, and seemed so reluctant to untangle. "I don't understand! Don't you two _want _to stop fighting?"

Zuko was silent. Then, he said, "I know you don't understand. But she does." He looked over Aang's shoulder, eyes travelling down to the chattering, peaceful river behind him. His voice hardened. "She'll do what's necessary. She's got no choice."

His hands glowed brightly for an instant as he turned back and gave the sleeping girl a resentful glare, as though she had suddenly and quite unreasonably denied him something he had long hoped for. What it was, Aang couldn't guess.

Katara stirred slightly under the new warmth. The younger boy took up one of her hands. Her eyes opened a fraction, just wide enough to see her recent quarry gazing intently back. At her weak start, Aang made forward with the intention to comfort, but was surprised to find Zuko already there, a rapidly cooled hand gently pressing her shoulder back down to the damp ground.

"Rest easy, warrior," he said in a low voice. "Your duty is done." Aang, slightly confused by the odd choice of words, heard his quiet admiration. Even a strange sort of.. resigned pride. It was such a foreign sound in the mouth of the firebender.

The old enemies regarded each other evenly for a moment, a poorly concealed hatred even now lingering on the corners of her mouth.

Yet still, to Aang's further astonishment, she closed her eyes again without a struggle, and went back to sleep. Zuko folded his legs under him to sit crosslegged on the grass. He kept diligent watch.

Aang realised there was a great deal he couldn't comprehend about his dearest friend and his former pursuer. But he was glad that perhaps, though reluctantly, they seemed to understand a little of each other. He hoped it was enough.

And thus, the Avatar saw it first.


	2. Forgetfulness

**Forgetfulness**

The great Temple was bathed in an orange dawn.

It promised no respite from a brutal summer heat. The two firebenders had awoken early, as was ritual, to embrace the ringing resonance between their inner flame and the dominance of fire in the skies.

Every morning, she also rose with the sun.

They had pantomined distant arguments at first. To come or to go, to approach or to skirt. She listened to silent theatre through their bodies; Aang risked only darting glances, Zuko stared openly. The roles were interchangeable. The impassive presence who observed, dull-eyed, was not.

She never spoke to them. And they never spoke to her. Gradually, in their minds, she became nothing more than a still shell with a tireless gaze. Silent as the carved, towering pillar by which she stood; grave as the ancient mausoleum which housed them.

Aang remembered the precise moment he had finally forgotten she was there. Zuko was obligingly demonstrating a troubling section of the Hawk-Amongst-Trees form, his hands shaking ever so slightly, watching him with a teacher's scrutiny as Aang mimicked the motions. Not just that she was there _then_, as a discomforting audience to his education. That she was here, amongst them, at all.

It was as though he shucked rocks off his shoulders that fell to the ground as feathers. He thought of nothing but the solid fulfillment of his rapid ascent towards firebending mastery. How much fun Zuko unwittingly made it. How simple it was to ride over his fits of impatience with a few jokes, or a lighthearted apology, or an impromptu challenge of a sumo fight. How natural it felt when Sokka had appeared out of nowhere, still chewing his breakfast, to appoint himself referee, or when Toph arrived to loudly coach his technique from the mock ringside. How easily all of them laughed when Zuko contested Sokka's decisions with arch indignation, and practically strongarmed Haru into his employ as his own retaliatory advisor. It was so normal, and infinitely precious, and _fun._

And the morning passed without somber, dutiful appraisals of the skies for quivering black dots. Nobody froze in mid-laughter in his presence, and cast down their eyes in apology. Nobody had sounded so unnaturally weary, when Aang spoke to them. No one connived or distrusted or secretly corroded away under a frozen, righteous, hated burden.

Then, as inevitably as the reprieve was fleeting, he glanced the wrong way and caught sight of the distant observer.

And he'd remembered, with a hollowness blossoming in the pit of his belly, that he was the Avatar. And one person never, ever forgot it.

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Warm night air pressed heavily into the open chamber. There was a quiet pall, an almost physical thing, as though you could reach up and pluck the silence from the air if you chose. A low, two-note refrain of insects swelled to fill the void of sound. The cicada-moths that nested in the cracks of ancient stones were only ever heard at night, in the comfortable lapse of words caused by communal eating.

He passed the bowl to Aang over the dimmed fire, brimming with the sweet, sloppy congee rice they had all grown heartily sick of.

She deftly caught it up out of his hand halfway without a word of warning, and lifted a dab to her mouth off her smallest finger. After carefully rolling it over her tongue and swallowing, she nodded to herself and passed Aang the bowl with a warm, apologetic smile. He returned it weakly.

Zuko, she spared no glance at all. His face darkened with a smothered intensity that was swiftly brought to heel. Aang watched him nervously. With an awkward attempt at indifference, the firebender picked up his own rice in silence. His hands quivered.

The rest of the faces around the campfire, all downturned, burned quietly. The silence became strangling.

They all waited for Toph, the bravest and blindest to it, to break its steel grip over her knee. She did eventually, of course, but the bitterness lingered.

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The night deepened on, the advance of time sparing those forced to play witness to an embarrassment that stood open like a wound. The rhythmic, domestic minutiae of cleaning and preparation for sleep was mercifully free of another encounter between _them_. They, the rest of the group, had begun to instinctively mold their habits around avoidance. Daily rhythms were now dependent on her location. In comfort, they passed low murmurs between each other, comrades in a strange prison of disquiet.

The unwitting gaoler rose from a wash basin, flicking her hands free of soap residue, and asked if anyone wanted to join her while she practiced her waterbending. The brightness of her query was proportionate to the averted eyes which followed. Over the past week, the affirmatives to this nightly offer had steadily dwindled into lukewarm excuses. She had borne the uncharacteristic solitude with a shrug the first few nights, but those who watched her go saw the little slump in the shoulders now. Most did not watch. They simply ached with the guilty, unwanted relief that she was gone.

Aang watched. He saw the moment of crumple in her face, over so quickly it was barely distinguishable. That little instant was a precise, excruciating dart. He vowed as he hastened to stand and join her that tomorrow his duty wouldn't burden him, that he would forget all his tiny, horrible resentments and train with focus. He would ignore the tiny murmur at the back of his mind noting that waterbending was not as fun as it once was. He would value Zuko only for his firebending skills, and remember who his first friends had been.

But later that night, with a sickening inevitability, he heard once more the light rustle of bedclothes and the pad of soft-soled boots. The sightless eyes of Toph met his between their sleeping rolls. Her sleeplessness posed the silent question, and he knew she had felt the wraith pass by with a light, but hardly sneaking, criminal step. The steps of a considerate friend, who didn't wish to wake them.

So he answered with a whisper so low, the sounds themselves were scarcely there; he didn't dare speak more than bare frames of words. It was safer to talk like this, with vibrations and secret exhalations of air rather than with the fullness of language. Yes, she's got the little bottle again. Yes, she's going to his room.

Toph heard him well enough, and reached out to hold his hand. Not for her own comfort; no, she had jumped up and confronted the wraith many nights ago. But her solidness proved no match this time for the fluid relentlessness of water on a downwards slope. No, she was _his_ comfort. Him, who could not yet bring himself to say what needed to be said, in real and unforgiving daylight.

Aang couldn't bring himself to let go of her hand long enough to turn over completely to check. But he knew Sokka was awake too. He'd been the first to relinquish confused pleas for angry demands. Aang knew, as surely as he could feel his glare tracing his sister's ghostly outline, that tomorrow he'd insist it was time.

He could not swallow down the burn. A tight, sharp fire that began in the stomach and throat, and travelled to meet at his heart.

**x‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›x**

Haru didn't like secrets.

He was not a naturally deceitful person. The unedited truth always seemed to spill out of him, with or without his consent. This unfortunate fact was soon discovered by Teo, and swiftly related to his fellow earthbender, who enjoyed many hours of amusement at his blushing expense. He didn't mind, though. It was a point of some pride most of the time. It made him feel closer to his admirable father.

That was then. Right this second, he would give his earthbending to know he could lie.

Katara banked the smooth curtain of water first left, then right. It cleaved itself horizontally to avoid Haru's volley of missiles, before reforming to lightly twine around his foot. His solid stance was deftly uprooted, and the motion sent him tumbling with a heavy thud.

"Haru! Are you alright?" Her voice rose slightly to reach him from the opposite end of the cool, echoing hall. The latter syllable of his name bounced on disconcertingly.

He lifted a hand in assuring reply.

Slightly red-faced, Katara withdrew her element with a rolling beckon of the palm. "I think I've got an unfair advantage today," she shouted. Haru ground his teeth in embarrassment at the kindly humility. "It's the full moon tonight, and with the fountain right here..." She gestured awkwardly.

The earthbender waved off her explanation with a half-hearted laugh. It would probably be less painful to be so roundly out-classed if she rejoiced her clear superiority once and a while. That is to say, with _him_; she could cavort and whoop and taunt smugly whenever she defeated Toph in a bout. But then again, Toph could beat her every so often. Haru had suspected with a sinking heart around their fifth two-minute encounter that he would not be privvy to that honour.

For the time being though, the protests of his vanity were easily drowned by thrilled relief that her empathy was distracting. She wasn't turning on him with hard eyes, he had not been pinned to the ceiling by four ice-cold water whips. Yet.

He felt a spiking ache under his breastbone that he was pretty sure had nothing to do with his defeat.

"Maybe we should move out into the -"

"No!" Haru got to his feet in an instant, the small pool of water he'd lain in slopping noisily. "No, I don't mind! We can stay here!" Katara closed her mouth and eyed him oddly, her weapon jumping idly under her hand in midair.

"I mean, it's nicer in here, isn't it? Out of the heat? It must be hard to waterbend in all this dry air. At least, for most waterbenders, it would be - " Haru pinched the inside of his wrist in an effort to stop rambling, " - for you, I bet it's no problem." He released the rest of his breath with a sharp exhale, not daring to meet her eyes. There was no way she wouldn't suspect something. Haru could feel his restless secret practically sweating out of his pores.

"Oh no, it does weaken me. I mean - " Venturing a glance from under his wet curtain of hair, he saw her press an irritated palm to her forehead. " - it doesn't _help_. But, I'm always at full strength when I fight." She gave him an imploring look of earnest concern. Haru could have laughed, if he wasn't so uncomfortable. She was still worried about his wounded pride. Here he was, willing participant in a plot against her, and she was worried about _him_.

The pain in his chest settled heavily into his stomach, twisting like thick rope.

A rough wave sprang up on the surface of the bubbling fountain. It fell back into relative calm as Katara crossed the hall and sat down on the circular lip, propping one leg up and slouching forward. She turned and gave him a broad smile, ever so slightly tinged with weariness. "Think it's time for a breather?" A strange formation of concentric, swirling vortexes began idly rising under her hands.

Haru tensed. The tinkling echoes of the running water were amplified to his ears as he paused, grasping for an answer. Breathers presented opportunity for distraction, the wandering of thoughts, concern about Aang's location -

The spitting, fizzling crash that sounded as Katara's makeshift masterpiece was destroyed raised a flock of parrot-monkeys from the uppermost tier of the Temple. The scatter of a million superheated drops caused an artifical rain over the hall, soaking both Haru and Katara instantly. They gasped simultaneously in pain.

"You know, I always knew you were prideful and stupid. But I thought you at least had courage." Katara's head turned as though someone had yanked a string attached to it. "It seems I was wrong. You are nothing but a coward."

Haru watched, wide-eyed, as a lance of water sailed through the air almost quicker than his eye could trace it. The gout of flame that dissolved it was an intense, almost white-hot cloud. A vast column of steam hissed and snapped with deafening volume in the cavernous chamber.

His stomach turned. This wasn't part of the plan.

"Did you think I wouldn't find out?" The firebender strode forward, indifference all forgotten. His arms trembled loosely at his sides.

Katara raised a slice of water almost half as high as the hall. Haru watched her begin to slide into the Tui stance with a rapidly mounting dread. "I knew you would eventually. And I knew you'd know why, too." Her voice had undergone a remarkable change in the space of roughly fifteen seconds. The friendly, buoyant, sometimes good-humouredly sarcastic Katara had vanished. There was nothing in her place now but a steeled spine and a face which seemed carved out of pack ice. Zuko spared the growing wall of water barely a glance as he raised his arms in defense, wide sleeves shaking back as his forearms ignited.

There had been a deep-seated suspicion in Haru's mind for some weeks now about why Zuko and Katara had never let their mutual hatred escalate into physical combat. He was finding his theory confirmed in the rage cracking and mutilating both their faces, one hot, one cold, as they anticipated the moment to strike. Neither of them had trusted themselves not to badly injure the other if they lost control.

Haru feared they had not been wrong.

He moved towards Katara, intending to plead her to stand down. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the first fireball approach. A thick ribbon of water forcibly wound itself over her front, sending Haru sprawling some distance away.

"Get out of here, Haru." She did not take her eyes off the firebender for an instant. "It's not safe."

He could do it. He could open up the ground and ask it to swallow them to their shoulders. But, as painful as it was to admit, he didn't trust the accuracy of his bending to such a degree. And though he was far from a coward, he had no wish to further anger these two particular benders at the height of their fury.

A mere flinch from Zuko was all it took for the descent of the swirling trunk of water. Haru ducked instinctively as a great swathe of flame roared down the centre of the chamber to meet it. The sound produced was enormous, reflected as it was in the high hall. A rolling, miniature tide slopped up against his bare ankles as the remnants of Katara's attack collapsed back to earth, firelight choppily bouncing up into his eyes. Haru ran.

"Poison. You were poisoning me." Even skirting the farthest edges of the stone walls, Haru still felt the heat of Zuko's fury. "_You have no honour!_" The hall dimmed and lightened in rapid-fire succession as each missile was parried with water.

"I will protect Aang at all costs, in every way I can!" Katara shouted back.

"Don't _lie_ to me!" Zuko snarled. Haru's gut clenched as he watched a dark, vicious anger smother Zuko's burnt face. A distant part of his brain seemed to comprehend, for the first time, that this boy had the blood of a brutal, terrible Fire Lord in him. "This wasn't protecting the Avatar. This was just you, and your little vendetta!" Haru saw Sokka appear in the entrance just as the firebender arced his arms back and thrust with both palms extended. The resulting heat haze distorted Sokka's shocked expression. Still hugging the walls, Haru ducked again as Katara responded with a fresh wave. The blows began to rain thick and fast.

The Water Tribesman didn't look at Haru as he splashed up beside him. "Sokka!" Haru reached out and grabbed his arm roughly, shaking him a little harder than he intended. This had been the wrong idea, right from the start.

Sokka wrenched his arm away and glared at the earthbender angrily. "You let them _fight?"_

Haru shook his head in exasperation. "Where's Toph and Aang! They're going to kill each other!" His words were punctuated by another bellowing cloud of steam, snapping loudly as the water boiled on contact. A thick smog of smoke mixed with the evaporation was beginning to settle thickly over the hall, sheparded about only by the violent elements.

"We're here!" Both of the younger benders appeared, rounding a corner and clearly out of breath. Teo and the Duke were right on their heels. "We felt the vibrations pretty fast," Toph added, panting.

From somewhere in the recesses of the murk, Katara groaned loudly in pain. Haru's stomach leapt into his throat. He started forward, but was restrained by a hand on his shoulder. He turned in confusion.

Sokka's hand was trembling, but his jaw was set. "No. Leave them. It might.. it might be better if they fight."

Haru could hardly believe his ears. "Are you - "

"She's been poisoning him with that tranquilising stuff, Haru! Every night! She's not herself - we _had_ to tell him!" Sokka's voice was verging on desperation. Who he was attempting to convince, Haru wasn't sure. He shook his head again.

"What if he hurts her? Or she hurts him?"

Sokka crossed his arms and closed his eyes tightly. "They can take care of themselves," he replied, his voice strained. Haru looked between the combatants and the elder brother in shock. He turned to Aang. The Avatar said nothing.

x‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›x

Katara gritted her teeth as another small burn appeared on her exposed arm. With a fluid slide, she sent a sharp crescent of water into her opponent's shoulder, drawing from him an audible hiss of pain. Straightening quickly, she saw him swipe forcefully at his face, and she knew he was trying to dislodge the shards of ice that were surely building up on his eyebrows and eyelashes.

"I don't care if you never forgive me," he shouted. "But don't ever try to stop me from aiding the Avatar." Zuko swung a flaming arm downwards in an angry stroke.

"I'll never forgive you and I'll _never_ trust you, you filthy firebender!" she retorted, icy facade finally snapping. "And I'll do anything I need to do to make sure you never hurt Aang! Even if – even when my friends don't agree!"

Zuko's eyes narrowed and he lowered his arms, fists balling and still aflame.

"Ah, I see now. You like not trusting me. You're using it as an excuse to fight me, because it means you aren't completely _useless_ to him!"

Katara stopped. The next volley of words seemed to freeze inside her mouth, becoming sharp, stabbing edges that collapsed down her throat and fell into a painful heap at the bottom of her stomach.

A righteousness had swept over Zuko though, and he had no intention of stopping.

"Yes, _useless_. Face the truth!" he stormed. "The Avatar is a better waterbender than you. If you didn't have your little charge to mother, you're nothing. No, worse. You're a nothing that holds the Avatar back." He lifted tightly clenched fists to the top of his head, where they lingered for a moment before swinging down with a violent whoosh.

"You.. you infuriate me! The _Avatar!_ The most important being in all the Four Lands and you think he's your pet! A toy!" This reanimated Katara with a precise efficiency. She coaxed her weapon up from the flooded floor. The thin, fast whip delivered a stinging welt to the top of Zuko's shoulder, and would have delivered more had he not fallen and rolled swiftly out of range.

"So you don't know anything about friendship! Of caring for someone so dear to you that you'd become some kind of – of _lunatic_ to protect them!" she bellowed, as great ropes of flame gushed from Zuko's raised hands. He whirled them once over his head and flung them, pinching her in brushing heat. She deflected the worst of it, and called forth two thick tentacles of water from the scorched fountain behind her. They wound quickly and tightly over her arms up to her bicep, becoming violent, whipping extensions of herself. "You don't know what it's like!"

"Friendship!" he spat scornfully. "Don't be so pathetic. Just admit that somewhere on your little adventures you've forgotten he is the Avatar, and he was born with one job to do, and _one job only_. He is not a little boy to coddle. He isn't yours to _keep." _Katara punched the watery arms squarely into Zuko's chest, knocking him to the ground. She wanted to pound the words out of his mouth, out of existence.

"You know nothing about me, filth," she growled. "You have _no idea_. What I wouldn't give to be able to forget he's the Avatar. Just for one day. I don't want to be fearful for him all the time. But I don't know how to be any other way! I don't know how!" She tried, desperately, to stem the angry flood of words. This was not what she wanted Zuko to hear, ever. She didn't want to turn a weak side to him. But they tumbled on, oblivious to her efforts, as Zuko jumped back to his feet. "I despise you and everything you've done, because I'm here now and I'm trying to make the best of it, even though I didn't know that caring about Aang would mean all of _this!" _She spread her arms and gestured fiercely at the battleground between them. The tips of the waterwhips splattered against the walls."I've slipped once and Aang was almost killed. I have to be vigilant now! No one else will be! No one else knows - "

"About Ba Sing Se," Zuko interrupted, the fiery ropes lessening slightly. She knew somehow he was not referring to the city, or even his sister's coup, but rather the strange few hours in the catacombs.

"No. About how easy it is to fall into the trap of wanting to forgive an enemy. Enemies should _stay enemies_." Zuko's hot glare turned to cold, bitter steel. It was easily matched by her own expression of loathing.

"Katara." Aang's quiet voice immediately commanded the attention of both fighters. "He's not an enemy anymore." He walked slowly over to stand between them, facing her. Zuko immediately extinguished the flame ropes with a puff of smoke.

"Aang," she replied with a relieved exhale, her voice immediately softening, arms lowering. "Thank goodness you're all right."

The Avatar looked down, hands closing into fists. "He's not an enemy anymore," he repeated.

"How can we know that for sure?" she questioned gently, moving towards him.

He spoke harshly to the wet floor. "I do! The rest of us do! It's only _you!"_ Katara stepped back, as though pushed. Aang paused to draw a deep breath, seemingly steadying himself, before continuing.

"He saved you down by the river that day. He stopped Combustion Man from blowing us apart, even after we rejected him." Aang still had not lifted his eyes. "And all you've done is make life miserable for him! You tried to make him weak with those herbs!"

Katara began to feel cold. Too cold, even for her. Her waterwhips started trailing slowly away into fluid again.

"I didn't - "

"You said you'd go along with whatever I thought was the right thing. But you didn't _mean_ it. You just meant you'd let me do what I wanted while you went behind my back!" Aang was shouting now. All his words had acidic, bitter edges, as though they'd fermented in some deep place inside him. "You didn't trust me for a second, did you!"

A numbness crept up over her mouth and throat, even as she tried to unhinge them to answer. All she could do was stand and listen, helpless.

Aang moved over to stand beside Zuko. They stood there, a pair, arrayed against her. She suddenly felt very small.

"We told him what you were doing, Katara." Her brother's voice echoed from the distant archway, completely alien. "We thought he deserved to know."

"But I.. I did it to protect you all. I was trying to - "

"You were being stupid and cruel and you know it!" Sokka shouted angrily. "I've never seen you like this before!"

Aang finally looked up, and met her eyes. It was the betrayal there, the raw hurt alongside the anger that did it. She quickly swallowed down hot tears.

"It's not like that at all," she said softly, answering Sokka but looking only at Aang. "You.. you don't know what he's capable of. I just did what I had to."

The last trace of imploring pain disappeared under the hard mask of anger. Never, even in her most terrifying of nightmares, did Katara ever see Aang turn that face to her. She felt the room begin to blur as she looked down at her feet.

"He's my friend, Katara." The words struck her as though he landed a physical blow, and she turned her face away to hide the wince. As such, she didn't see the slight tremble of his shoulders. "You are, too. But if you can't trust me as a friend.. then I'm telling you. As the Avatar. Leave Zuko alone, or answer to me."

The silence of the great hall was punctured only by the perpetual drip of the drained fountain.A great, invisible rent tore open in the air, and tension rippled out over the floor between the lone, sodden waterbender, and everyone else.

Katara looked down at the water still sloshing over the old, grey stone. It suddenly occured to her how ridiculous it was that everyone had wet feet. A petty, annoying inconvenience she'd inflicted on them while they were trying to discuss something important.

She ran out of the chamber.

**x‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›x**

The circle around the fire that night was silent for entirely different reasons. The rice was long eaten. Stares into the middle distance replaced most conversation, though Sokka and Haru occasionally occupied themselves by glaring at each other.

"I miss Katara," the Duke sighed, with all the disarming truthfulness of a ten-year-old. Teo quickly shushed him.

"You and me both," Toph murmured under her breath from beside Aang. The airbender laid down quickly, pillowing his hands behind his head and turning on his side away from her. She pounded an impatient fist into the ground and reached over to take a handful of his robes, pulling him back. He opened his mouth to angrily protest. But instead, he sat up again, just as quickly distracted from his annoyance.

Zuko was walking away from the campfire, fastening his swords to his back.

**x‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›x**

She was sitting by the river.

Despite complete isolation, her sobs were hushed and small. He could barely hear them until he moved closer.

She turned and stood quickly at the sound of his approach, sniffing up her tears and moving into a stance. The stream's surface trembled slightly in anticipation. He waited for the first wave to rise.

It never did. On seeing who it was, she slumped, and returned to the water's edge. Zuko watched her back as he waited, assuming she at least intended to speak before resuming their usual violence. He noted the green stains on her tunic and a few stray leaves caught in matted, dirty hair.

"Milkweed is best. To get rid of the deng-qao herbs." Her voice was muffled, as though she spoke through wool caught down her throat. Zuko blinked, and looked down at his lightly quivering hands.

"Oh," he said a little stupidly, thrown off. He'd been expecting an angry retort about coming out here to crow over her misery. Or maybe no words at all, just a water whip to the face. "Well.. we use the Sage's Tonic in the Fire Nation," he blurted out, attempting to cover his disorientation.

She huffed. "Do you know how to _make_ the Sage's Tonic?" Zuko silently conceded her point. "But I do know how to make a milkweed draught."

She was silent for a moment. Zuko watched her shift slightly. "There's plenty around here. I'll make you some when I get back," she clarified.

His eyes narrowed. She'd just been humiliated by her friends and driven out into the wilderness alone, and she was talking about remedies? For him? A ploy.

"Why would you bother?" He crossed his arms. Katara turned back around in surprise at the abrupt jolt in his tone. Noting the sudden shift to alertness, she sighed. A deep weight seemed to settle into the curves of her face.

"I don't know." She lifted her hands a little before letting them fall heavily back to her lap. "I just think I should," she said quietly, forehead drawn into a furrow.

He watched her carefully for the familiar signs of insincerity. A slight tension around the neck and shoulders, darting eyes.. but there was nothing. Taking his silence as the end of the discussion, Katara had returned to watching the water, drawing legs up to her chin as a prop.

"If you want to make it, I suppose I could use it," he said stiffly. He felt taut and nervous, suddenly. This encounter was too passive.

The person he knew was comprised only of waterbending mastery, blind determination to protect the Avatar, and raw, seething hatred of him, the interloping enemy. She was sharp and in focus, even hidden in nooks of ancient architecture.

There _was_ some foreign entity, who could bestow small kindnesses without reason or provocation. Who was capable of remorse. He had seen them gently rubbing the blind girl's feet before being requested, or passing out bowls of hot soup with two careful hands that lingered in unthinking concern under the recipients own until they steadied. But they were blurry around the edges, and existed on some other plane than his own. Theoretical and irrelevant to him.

"Are you trying to trick me?" he added into the brief pause. The genuine confusion was tempered with a strong bite of deliberate antagonism. He wanted to draw out the familiar again. Where was the ice? Where was his hated tormentor? He did not believe for a moment that Aang's warning would stand her down.

She, to his infinite amazement, _laughed_. It was a small, miserable and phelgm-y sound, but it was not the hardened jeer she reserved for her seasoned enemy. And there was definitely no one else around. It had to be for him.

As little as he'd paid mind to it in the past, as tightly as it wound the muscles in his dominant sword arm, Zuko found himself suddenly preferring this version. Even hoarse and slightly pathetic as it was at the moment, it rested on her voice far more comfortably than the usual poisonous tone reserved for him. Still, even this vague preference left him with a rancid taste in his mouth. He hated the unfamiliar.

"I'm not going to murder you with a weed draught, I promise." She raised a hand over her shoulder. "But if you're as bad as me, you probably won't believe that." It struck Zuko that she sounded tired. It was ridiculously normal. "I guess you'll have to trust that I think you deserve a far worse death."

"That's believable, at least."

"And the truth." The words were softened by another weak laugh. Zuko wondered at how badly she was forgetting herself. Their established rules of engagement were scattering like spooked birds, and she didn't seem to be noticing.

It appeared to be the exhaustion of her will to speak. The shallow river surface jumped and bubbled as she leaned over to stare into it. She was beginning to take on the definite slump of fatigue.

Zuko realised they had just conducted their first civil conversation. He was deeply relieved it was over.

He swung his arms slightly in uneasy deliberation, before moving quietly across the leaf litter to stand next to her with slow, painstaking caution. It was the full moon. He had stumbled across a wild, battle-scarred Komodo rhino, who could look up from her peaceful graze at any moment and gore him to death. Despite himself, and despite the uneasy tendrils of uncertainty snaking through his gut, he felt compelled to extend this temporary truce as long as it could hold, however unsure he was of the reason.

It felt like being in the catacombs, and he hadn't known the reason then either. Maybe, sometimes, he was just tired of fighting.

They listened to the chirps of the cicada-moths, just audible in the still night air over the sounds of the creek.

Eventually, she broke the silence. "I'm not ungrateful, you know. That I'm friends with the Avatar. I really would throw myself in harm's way for Aang," she said, guarded but quietly earnest all the same.

"I know," he replied. It seemed important that he answered.

Zuko sat down on the river rock beside her, and leaned over to drag his fingertips through the water as she was. Neither spoke again, nor seemed to want the other to speak. Both were soon lost in their own thoughts, watching their hands bobble with the current.

The small, frail, silent companionship was preserved.


	3. Rust

**Rust**

She gathered back her hair as she walked. An early breeze buffeted the crumpled tresses, sliding them about in escape attempts as she patiently pulled them together. A well-practised twist, a tight knot, and it was secure. Hands lightly smoothed over her tunic, tactile memory piecing together her appearance. No mirrors when you were on the run. She'd learnt her way around her clothing by fingertips many moons ago.

Looking up, she followed a great mural through the dim passageways. It was just about familiar now, the silent dance of the sky bisons through twining air currents, carved above her head into the unchanging stone. For the umpteenth time, she wondered at the character of the airbender artisan who whittled them out many millenia before. They were too light. It was almost eerie how close the frolicking animals seemed to drifting down off the Temple arches, and simply floating away on the stiff westerly winds.

The mythical beasts led her through the blustery corridors, always heading towards the open sky, though she could practically walk this path in her sleep. Stifling a yawn on the back of her hand, she climbed a staircase and then another.

The chill, tunnelled by the soaring stone hall through which she walked, pushed her forwards.

She wondered if Aang had woken yet. Would he mind, if she went to wake him? It seemed an absurd question, even now. But it had been an unsettling week. Aang had transformed into a virtual mute whenever she walked too close, as if she was just too difficult to talk to now. Greasy tentacles gripped her innards every time she saw his face close down. But he hadn't shooed her away when she tentatively arrived one morning, as usual. No amount of dire warning was capable of lessening her concern for him. Even if... from now on, he could only ignore her.

Distant shrieks of a lone owl broke the echoing silence, pausing her gloomy musing. She shook her head firmly as she rounded the final corner, the wind increasing tenfold. There was no use speculating. Proving to him that she could coexist with her enemy for his sake is what would repair their friendship, nothing else. She was determined to show him - show everyone - there was no reason she could not change herself for the sake of harmony.

She wasn't useless.

Sunlight swept forward over the lip of the canyon. The orange sliver cast a bright, garish light into the quiet little square. She paused on the threshold.

Aang was nowhere to be seen. Stepping back, she turned to go.

The flashing gleam jumped out and caught her like a fish in a tightly-weaved net. Despite her mind's ringing forewarning, she turned back.

His motion was nothing like fire. Fire jumped and flared without cause nor control. It had no pattern, no purpose, no design. But this..

Elegant. It was elegant.

The word rose unbidden in her thoughts as she watched the swords fold the air, perfectly unified in movement. It was uncomfortably close to a compliment, but she couldn't deny its truth. The weapons were as fluid in his hands as true fluid was in hers. His body seemed present simply to facilitate the blade, though she knew enough of swordsmanship to know she was seeing very much the opposite. And it _was _one sword wielded by two hands - that was suddenly and overtly obvious. The form would never function without both halves of the whole.

It was so beautifully precise that she forgot, momentarily, who she was watching.

He turned towards the entrance in a weaving thrust, silhouetted by the dawn. The lethal dance jerked to a clumsy halt, swords dropping to his sides. The spell they'd inadvertently cast broke just as awkwardly.

She reached up and tightened her hair needlessly, before moving forward with a falsely purposeful stride.

There seemed to be far too few steps to take in order to cross to a reasonable speaking distance, and far too short a time to come up with something to say. It was becoming a frustratingly familiar scenario - neither had found any trouble in staring the other down before the rules had changed. But now, their eyes seemed like magnetic similars, sliding everywhere but repelled by the other's face. He seemed engrossed in scraping the tips of the swords along the ground as he recovered his breath and she stood there, mute.

Katara was sure she preferred it when they could simply default to violence. It had to be less painful than enforced, mortifying silences. But she had promised Aang.

"So.. he's not here yet?" It was stupid and ridiculously self-evident, but better than nothing. She ground her jaw as Zuko released a short sigh of annoyance, before remembering herself and looking back down at her feet.

"No, Aang isn't here yet." He enunciated every word as though she was simple. The deep-seated urge to write thick welts across his face rose up in a geyser within her.

"Don't you need him here before dawn?" she retorted, folding her arms. The sunlight was uncomfortably bright now, rendering Zuko still mostly a blocked-out shape. The swords came together with a slight chink.

"No. Not today." He retreated a few paces to recline on a vast stone pillar. When no further explanation was forthcoming, Katara realised they had once again reached the end of their very short conversational rope. A minute ticked by with agonizing silence. She seethed at her awkwardness. At least insults were honest. Now they just held them in, for everyone else's sake.

His arms came up in an idle stretch, and she remembered in what she had technically interrupted him. "Keep going." It was out of her mouth before her mind could overtake it.

He looked up in confusion. "Keep going?"

She shrugged in what she hoped was a nonchalant way. "Yeah. I mean, I don't care. You can finish if you want." To prove her point, Katara kneeled down by one of the vast columns in the centre of the square, and appeared to engross herself in the view behind Zuko's back. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him tapping the blades lightly against his leg.

After a few moments, she heard the quiet metallic slide of the swords unhinging again. Footsteps began to echo, though she resolutely kept her eyes on the brightening valley. When they didn't cease, and seemed louder, she looked up. Zuko's shape was suddenly blocking out the light, his arm stretched towards her. An unreasonable moment of panic gripped her that he might be offering to help her stand. However, a second glance adjusted to the sudden dimness revealed the hand extended down to her was accompanied by a reversed hilt.

When she didn't move, he raised his eyebrows in question. "Well?"

Catching on, she reached up and took the sword. He turned abruptly on his heel without another word and moved back towards open space. Katara couldn't quite believe he'd just handed her a live blade of his own free will. Well, she wasn't one to turn down an opportunity. Perhaps this would exorcise a nice chunk of a week's pent-up annoyance.

Standing, she looked down at the golden handle. A worn antique, if the burnish and scratches were any indication. Probably a heirloom thieved from an Earth Kingdom village, she decided. The metal was still warm, fitting comfortably even to her smaller hand. She pursed her lips - probably a _poor_ Earth Kingdom village.

"Stop staring at it." Katara looked up. Zuko was holding the twin above his head in a readied stance. "You're not touching them again after this."

"Then let's do this properly. Seeing as you've bestowed such an _honour_on me." Katara deftly tossed the sword back. Zuko reached up and caught it out of the air. His surprise swiftly turned to indignation.

"If you didn't want to spar, you should have said so and I wouldn't be wasting my time -"

"Those aren't separate swords. They need to be used together." With a pop, she uncorked her canteen and drew out a short ribbon of her element. "I'll use this." The anticipation of a proper match, a real outlet, made a sudden grin very difficult to repress.

He made no comment to that, though she didn't miss the brief raise of his eyebrows. With a superfluous twirl of the blades, he fell back into a guard, as she hardened the water with an icy skin.

"Looking _forward_ to this?" Zuko jeered. Katara wondered if he'd intended that to come out with a little more venom than it had. It did nothing to curb her unexpected enthusiasm.

"Looking forward to flattening you." No need to reach deep for pretense there. She shielded her eyes briefly against the encroaching sunlight, ascertaining his body's exact positioning. He was deep in a stance she'd seen him use many times with Aang, shifting his weight from front to back as he bounced lightly on his feet. It appeared she was not the only eager one, however little his demeanor betrayed it.

"Hurry up," he said impatiently. She took a moment to relish his irritation, before sliding into a swordsman's posture.

A sudden thought struck her like a blow to the kidneys. She froze. Aang. What if Aang walked in and saw them fighting? She had about as much faith in Zuko vouching for her as she had in his good character and flawless morals. What if Aang thought she was attacking him? He'd hardly seemed receptive to explanations lately. She could be plucking the last healthy petal of their friendship.

Damn Zuko. Damn him for ruining everything.

The water dripped as it returned to fluid, trickling back into her canteen as the ice melted.

Katara looked at the floor for long moments. When she could no longer bear the silence, she looked up and squarely into his face, eyes daring the inevitable anger. His bearing was completely upright again, and unmoving as a statue. Grave and unreadable as if a mask had slipped down into place. It only heightened the newly stoked ire in her belly. This was his doing. If he hadn't lost his temper with her, if he hadn't attacked Aang by the river, if he hadn't arrived_, forced_ himself into their lives.

His eyes shifted once deliberately, slowly, to the doorway. So he did understand. She stared coldly at his vacant, closed expression as his eyes refocused somewhere over her shoulder. He wasn't going to challenge this? He was going to let this slide?

Katara curled her fists. She _wanted_ him to provoke her. She wanted him to permit what Aang would not. This constant biting of tongues surely was wearing as thin on him as it was on her! If he would just respond, attack, threaten, she could explain everything away. Why was he not leaping at the opportunity? Katara was sure he wanted to fight. He'd seemed almost... buoyant.

Zuko turned out to the sunrise, folding his arms. The spark, the moment of life and eagerness had died in his face. Now, there was nothing again. Just another anonymous enemy, as anodyne to her as any Fire Nation footsoldier. A gnawing pain rippled through her molar teeth, and she realised her jaw was held in an unconsciously ironclad grind. That coward. Stubborn, willful coward.

Stupid, hopeful, willful coward.

It was as if a swollen balloon had punctured without warning in her chest.

He spoke lowly, as if to himself. "Aang."

"Yes," she replied, her voice quiet and empty. "Aang."

He sighed. "No._ Aang_."

"Morning, Sifu Hotman! Hey, are you going to let me use your swords - oh. Hey, Katara. Did you start without me?"

**x‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›‹¤›x**

The sun had finally lifted the chill from the stones. As they walked back, guided silently by the bisons, he fell into step beside her. The almost-overt friendliness immediately raised the hairs on her neck, as though by deep-seated reflex. She made to shift away.

A hand gripped her arm. Not gently, but not angrily either. "Wait."

She stopped walking, shocked. A tight knot was forming over his brow, teeth ever so slightly worrying his lower lip. "We need to spar regularly," Zuko finally expelled in a rush. Katara blinked, unable to instantly decipher the statement. And the behaviour. He surely didn't mean what she _thought_ he meant.

Unimpeded, he barrelled on. "You're the only one here who I can fight without holding back. I feel my skills rusting, and from what I've watched of you lately, yours are too. So don't - "

So he did, then. "Yes. Let's do it."

Clearly having anticipated more resistance, Zuko stumbled to a verbal halt.

"Oh. Good."

"Good." She paused, biting the inside of her cheek. "Looking forward to flattening you tomorrow, then."

It was barely a hint, more the slight upturn of one corner of his mouth. But for a split second, it made the smile she was keeping at bay blossom completely.

But only a split second.

Suddenly conscious of their highly unusual proximity, she quickly extricated her arm. He took two full steps backwards, almost colliding with a Temple statue.

"Tomorrow," he said carelessly, not looking at her as he recovered and rapidly descended the rest of the stairs.

Katara rubbed her arm, and bit down once more on her cheek.


	4. The Grove: An Interlude

The Grove

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**

Two tied bunches of wild fox-hares bounced lightly against their backs with every step, the bodies still unsettlingly warm and just beginning to stiffen. An overcast afternoon threatened to douse the two hunters in an early dusk. They crested the hill in unison, orange leaf litter crunching underfoot.

"Oh." He came to a sudden stop, uttering the first words they'd shared in many hours. "The Xingba trees are flowering."

She swivelled her head to follow his stare. A grove of slender, willowy trees stood at the foot of the hill, all crowned in a glorious riot of delicate golden flowers. The grey branches of each twined with its neighbour, years of untended seeding tangling the wood until each individual was indistinguishable. A sparse carpet of blossoms had already fallen amongst the dead leaves, dotting the brown with bright points of colour. Even as she watched, the breeze plucked a few more and cast them to the ground, exposing the bare limb of the tree underneath.

Zuko swung the bundle off his shoulder, dropping it to his feet. He took a few steps downhill, posture slanting to adjust to the sharp incline. "They only flower one week in summer." He glanced briefly at her out of the corner of his eye. "There's a long walk on the palace grounds filled only with these trees. My mother used to open it herself, when the first blossoms appeared. She made me attend every year." HIs voice sounded suddenly distant, detached. "I hated it. I was always too hot, and I had to sit by my mother's knee in silence. Azula never had to go. She was always in training." Katara slowly unwound the tight cord anchoring the hares to her back, letting them fall. She wondered if he remembered she was here, or if the trees had forced him too abruptly into his memories to check himself.

He stooped to pick up one particularly enterprising blossom that had managed to ride the winds to the top of the hill, by their feet. "They have no smell at all. They look pretty enough, I guess." He frowned at the tiny flower. "But there's nothing inside. Even the bark is prone to worm-rot; I remember the gardeners hauling fallen trees all autumn. They're completely useless." He flicked the cast-off back to the ground. It fell gently, as though not quite so susceptible to gravity as the world around it. "But my mother loved them," he concluded quietly, almost in afterthought.

Katara folded her hands behind her back. They listened in silence to the hums and chirps of the undisturbed woods. She watched the tumbling of the loose golden carpet across the forest floor, sheparded by the freshening wind.

"We have no trees at the South Pole." Zuko turned his head, one eyebrow raising slightly in his otherwise blank expression. "The roots die in the cold," she added awkwardly.

"Right," Zuko replied tersely, turning back to the display. "Look, we should keep moving. We'll make the Temple by-"

"But I can see why your mother cared for them." She could see the tension in his jaw from where she stood, shoulders stiffening. The angry retort was not forthcoming as expected though, and it buoyed her courage, for some inexplictable reason. She felt compelled to match his offering of honesty, to share something truthful in return. "They're beautiful." Katara gazed out over the grove. It was swaying gently in unison, the almost feeble branches rustling and scraping as one. She could feel his stare on the side of her face.

The yellow blossom Zuko had dropped touched her oxskin boot. She bent to retrieve it, careful not to turn her head to meet his eye. Everything suddenly seemed too open and embarassing, like she'd been caught rambling. The yellow petals were almost crushed in her ginger fingertips, they were so fragile. Bringing it to her nose, she sniffed, out of compulsion more than anything else. Zuko had been right, she discovered. She could smell nothing but the sweat and oils on her own skin.

"I used to - " he cut himself off when she turned at the sound of his voice. He coughed, arms folding. Katara's brow creased, still holding the flower against her chest with a thumb and forefinger.

"Used to?" she ventured, unsure as to expect a reply or another of his mercurial changes in temper. He looked up and - to her mild astonishment - lifted the corner of his mouth ever so slightly.

"Used to do this." He held her gaze for a moment longer, still smiling rather helplessly, before turning and descending the hill at a run. Plumes of withered leaves kicked up from under his soft soles, rustling loudly. He slithered on the loose surface, strides turning uneven as his footing slipped with his weight. Katara's mouth dropped slightly, half forming a surprised shout. Her first scrambled thought was that he'd seen a patrol, he'd led her out here to be captured, he was about to betray her _again._ And she was just standing and waiting, with a flower in her hand like a hopeless, girlish fool.

Before she could scan the sky or uncork her canteen, Zuko reached the base of the hill. At the last second, his body turned sideways and skidded shoulder-first into the trunk of the nearest tree. The solid thud at the moment of connection between wood and muscle could be heard clearly even at her distance and accompanied by his pained grunt, as though he'd forcibly knocked the air from his lungs.

The vibrations the collision had caused seemed to travel all the way to the tips of the slender timber, causing every branch to tremble. And as one, the flowers fell.

She lost sight of Zuko under the rippling, solid curtain of blossoms. Columns of many-hued gold tumbled over each other in the air, trickling gently through the branches like a strangely soft fluid through human fingers. The outline of any single flower was lost in the river of colour, becoming a single, undulating, suspended shape. The moment seemed to stretch out as she watched, frozen in place.

Her second thought was an absurdly powerful sense of relief. He wasn't running away. He was showing her something... wonderful. It felt like a horribly inadequate word for the moment she had just witnessed, a natural marvel all the more beautiful for its remoteness and secrecy, but she lacked the right words. She felt the image carving into her memory, and there it would stay.

The last blossom drifted to the ground. Zuko reappeared under the newly stripped shape of the gangly tree. She took a few stumbling steps down into the valley, paying little attention to her footing. He brushed the collected golden mass off his shoulders and out of his hair, chest heaving to catch his breath. He turned as she approached, avoiding her eye as he shook flowers out of his high collar. Katara was struck with the realisation that, for the first time, she could imagine Prince Zuko as a young boy.

The rocks and divets of the steep hill proved a greater challenge for her than they had for him; she seemed to lack that strange internal energy he had that gave physical obstacles little meaning. Eventually abandoning dignity, she sat down and used all four limbs to scuttle. He lifted his head from its uncomfortable position flush against his chest, and their gazes met. Whether it was the strangely ethereal quality to the hushing wind through the trees, or the continual drift of golden flowers, or now-unshakeable visual imprint of him as a child, she didn't know. But she smiled tentatively at him.

He looked away, his mouth barely twitching.

As the incline leveled, she scrambled to her feet and began to wade through the petals. "That was the only thing I liked about these trees. Doing that," he said, voice still distant. He brushed a few straggling flowers out from behind his ears.

Katara looked around the copse, watching the winnowing of the afternoon sun through the muted golden ceiling. She scooped up flowers from her feet with both hands, before tilting the makeshift bowl and letting them cascade over her fingertips. She narrowed her eyes. "I'm going to try it," she declared.

Zuko raised his only eyebrow. Walking forward into the dull light under the flowery canopy, Katara let her hands trail over the close, grey trunks. "It does hurt, you know," he called from behind her. "Did you realise that?"

"I think Toph could have felt the crash you made, Zuko. Don't worry, I realise. That's what this -" she held up her water pouch briefly before letting it drop back with a muted slosh, " - is for."

"But you could break your arm!"

Katara slapped a palm on a particularly bendy tree. "Come on, don't tell me you're _worried." _She retraced her steps until she was almost standing next to the firebender again, keeping her intended victim in sight.

His voice sounded much closer, like he'd walked right up behind her. "I'm _not_ worried. But you can't afford to risk injury."

She turned around. "When am I ever going to get a chance to do this again? Once the war is over, I'll have to go back to the Water Tribe," she stated with finality. His mouth pressed into a thin line. Hesitating only momentarily, she reached forward and patted his upper arm in a clumsy mimic of what came so naturally with Aang or Sokka or Toph. "No trees there." Irritated at how high-pitched her voice had gone, she dropped her hand and looked away.

He turned on his heel. The old leaves crunched heavily under his steps as he walked into the copse. "This is pointless," he called over his shoulder.

"Aren't you the one who said Aang had nothing further to learn from me? What does it matter if I have a few bruises for a day or two?" she retorted loudly.

He didn't reply, simply continuing to walk until he was only a few slivers of red tunic between the stripes of grey bark. Katara shook her head in annoyance.

"It's not pointless," she said under her breath, turning and digging her back foot into the soft dirt. Her eyes alighted on the thin trunk she had picked out, and she leapt forward with two uneven steps before breaking into a sprint. She felt her thick braid flapping behind her as the blood began pumping vigourously to her arms and legs. The forest seemed noisier as the wind whistled past her ears, even deafening her own breath as she began sucking in lungfuls past gritted teeth.

With a shout, she collided heavily with the tree. It seemed the wood had a great deal less give in it than she'd anticipated. A sharp, throbbing ache immediately sprouted in her bicep, and she clung to her shoulder with scrunched eyes. But the pain was more or less forgotten as she looked up, and watched the tremulous descent of a handful of flowers. It was a slightly embarassing number when compared to how many Zuko had managed to dislodge, but she nodded with satisfaction. She reached up into a low branch and let the tiny blooms skate over her skin.

"Idiot. I told you it hurts." He appeared from the thicket. Katara did not bother with a reply. She slid to the base of the tree, landing on the leaves below with a slight crunch. The rattle of agitated water sounded from her hip, and she flicked off the top of her canteen to release it. After pushing her sleeve rather carelessly up onto her shoulder, she began idly drawing the water over bruised muscle, paying little attention to the task. The odd stray blossom still fell from above their heads, gleaming almost unnaturally in the deepening, reddening sunlight. She gently tugged at the minute traces of fluid in the petals, helping them dance a little in the wind before completing their descents.

After a while, she felt a dull thud through the fibre of the tree trunk, telling her that Zuko had seated himself on the opposite side. She leaned back, resting her shoulderblades on the bark. The quiet grove seemed to be settling in preparation for nightfall, its ambient noises dimming and the breeze slowing.

A distant snuffling caught her attention; a pygmy molerat was investigating their abandoned loads back atop the hill. It reminded her of the arctic pygmy she and Sokka had attempted to tame during a particularly fiercesome season of winter blizzards. She watched it unthinkingly, staring but unseeing. Suddenly, in her mind's eye, she no longer sat in the grove, but at the seat of her mother's firepit, watching her stir fresh snowberry roots into a stew. Katara could see every blackened iron cauldron lining the walls, every tightly packed jar of dried summer herbs that she had lovingly gathered from the melted snowfields. The smell of charcoal and plants had always been ingrained into her mother's skin. Something she hadn't realised until it no longer permeated their hut so entirely.

Katara waited for the familiar hazy ball of anger, of rage at the senseless injustice, to rise in her throat. BUt she felt nothing but a small, sad knot.

Healing complete, she returned the water to the pouch. She drew her legs up, resting her chin on her knee. As she watched, a flower alighted on the toe of her boot. A thought occurred to her.

"My mother would have liked these trees too." She paused. "She would have liked the Fire Nation."

After a few moments, the reply drifted around from the other side of the tree. "How could you possibly say that?" he questioned doubtingly.

Katara shrugged, for the benefit of no one but the molerat. "Not everything seems to be bad here."

"This isn't a country that deserves appreciation, waterbender."

"Not everything or everyone in it is good, obviously. But I think that underneath people like the Firelord and Princess Azula, it has a good heart. A good foundation. It's kind of beautiful, really."

A minute ticked over in silence. Finally, she heard him clearing his throat. "You know... if - _when_ Aang finally ousts my father, I may return to the Palace. In the capital." He paused. Katara waited for him to continue. She heard a rustling, as though dead leaves were being shredded by hand. "You are welcome to stay. I mean, the Avatar and his friends are welcome to stay," he stated, tone stiff and formal. "If you wanted to see more of the Fire Nation besides its wilderness and back alleys, that is."

The molerat scuttled off into the bushes. Katara struggled to keep a little smile out of her voice. "Hmm. Do you really have the authority to make such an offer?"

"I am prince of these lands, and my word is final!" he scoffed. She rolled her eyes.

"So." His tone became far more unsure. "You don't have to go back to that frozen wasteland straight away, if you don't wish it."

"Oh no, I certainly want to return home."

"Oh. Of course." He stood up abruptly, a flurry of leaves in his wake. "Well, it was nothing, just an offer."

Katara stood too, brushing herself off carefully. "But I do want to see that long walk on your grounds of these trees. So perhaps I'll stay for a little while, if it suits Aang and the others. Would that be alright?" She circled the trunk to face him directly.

"The trees will be rotting and bare, you know." The reprimand in his tone was half-hearted.

"I know. But I'd like to see it all the same." Katara nodded sagely. "Then it's settled. Now," she said, tapping a finger to her chin. "Whoever gets to the foxhares last, has to carry both bundles home."

He smiled. Properly.

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	5. The Lesson

The day had dawned hazy and warm. Heavy clouds shaded off the worst of the summer's intensity. Aang had suffered greatly through the morning's earthbending session, his constant distraction earning him fresh bruises as a result of several unexpected rock clamps around his ankles. Toph had eventually declared the lesson, and Aang by extension, a lost cause. Teacher and student now sat wedged between two enormous stone pillars, feet dangling into the shadowy canyon. Their elbows jostled comfortably as they chewed on apples she'd 'borrowed' from Katara's fiercely rationed larder.

"I'm telling you, it's the best day for flying since we've been here." Aang's heels drummed against the stone. "Look at those updrafts! Maybe if I just..." Toph felt his head turn towards her. She took another chomp out of her fruit in reply. He sighed woefully.

Toph rolled her eyes upwards and swallowed. "Much as I hate admitting Sugar Queen is right, it is kinda risky." She picked a seed out of her teeth and flicked it into the abyss. "And by kinda, I mean it is. Definitely."

"But I could fly low! If I see anything suspicious, I'll just drop into the trees." Toph snorted. "Toph? Right, Toph?"

"What, are you waiting for my permission, Twinkletoes? You're the one that'll get impaled on a enormous icicle if you get caught, not me." She tossed the apple to her left hand and pointed directly above her head. "You should head that way if you need some nagging." The stone step trembled, imperceptible to all backsides except her own, as the airbender jumped lightly to his feet.

A solid smack told her he had called his glider to his hand. "I have to agree with Sokka, Toph. You're the man." A loose, grimy lock of her hair brushed her nose as she felt her companion leap into the chasm. "And don't tell you-know-who!" Aang shouted over his shoulder, voice fading as he plummeted.

"Only if you bring me back something good!" She yelled back, before studiously wiping a few smears of dirt off the apple onto her tunic and taking another bite.

Another muted explosion rumbled through the building from the floor above. Toph raised her eyebrows, wondering if they'd finally killed each other. Pulling her feet up to flop carelessly on Aang's vacated seat, she settled in to 'watch'.

* * *

"Stop. _Stop_._"_

The whips abruptly changed direction, quivering in mid-air. "What! Did you see a patrol? Did you hear someone calling?"

"No, you - "

"We've already been here an hour longer than we planned. Maybe I should go make sure they know we're still here.. Aang might not have had breakfast yet."

He pushed the heel of his hand into an eyesocket. "Please tell me you're joking. He can get his _own_ breakfast. The Avatar doesn't need his nursemaid to feed him."

"Right. Perhaps things like caring concern are beyond your mind's tiny capabilities. Or maybe just _friendship, _I'm not sure. And was there a reason you interrupted me!" The whips lowered again.

He walked forward through the rippling arms of water, barely acknowledging the splash, already completely sodden. Katara paused, suddenly conscious of the extra weight her tunic was carrying. She shifted her element back into a ball easily guided by one hand, and pulled water from their clothes with long, flowing strokes. The firebender stopped, his expression rapidly morphing from vaguely annoyed (which was usual) to discomforted. It was subtle in the face of the normally tacit young man, but Katara was reasonably certain she'd caused him more discomfort than most, and so detected it immediately. She winced internally - perhaps she was being too familiar. She watched his eyes slide off her face as she finished the impromptu wringing; the carving above her head appeared to be tremendously engrossing all of a sudden.

Zuko cleared his throat. "Thanks."

"I just thought, it's probably uncomfortable - me and Aang, we usually..." She trailed off. We usually go without most of our clothes?

"I said thanks," he retorted pointedly.

Katara folded her arms, smoothing over her awkwardness with an impatient air. "Why are we stopping? You're disrupting the flow of the fight."

"We're stopping because you clearly have no idea how to fight firebenders." Zuko pointed at her in accusation. "Don't bother denying it. It's obvious you've never been taught."

Katara stepped forward, eyes narrowed and awkwardness forgotten. "I seem to recall a long list of firebenders all over the world whose broken limbs and bruises say otherwise." With _you_ in pride of place, she reluctantly refrained from adding.

Zuko matched her frigid stare, easily reading the unspoken conclusion to her statement. "And _I_ seem to recall my sister easily overpowering you and the Avatar under Ba Sing Se."

"Yes, true. I doubt Aang will forget the agony of a lightning strike any time soon." Zuko's eyes slid off her face, looking towards her feet. "If only we'd had _help." _The last word was bitten off, like a snapping bone. The stiff but tentatively comradely atmosphere drained like a barrel of snowberry beer at an ice-dodging ceremony.

"Look - " He swiped wet strands of hair roughly out of his eyes. "You need to be more effective against firebenders. There's no one else to teach you. Do you want to learn or not?"

Katara folded her arms, holding her chin high. "I highly doubt you have what it takes to instruct a waterbending master in their technique."

"It's not a matter of - " Zuko cut himself off, and inhaled deeply before continuing. His next words were emphatic and measured. "I have been drilled in firebending combat styles since I could walk. I've watched our warriors train until I could see their moves in my sleep." He shook his head. "Trust me, your 'technique' is not prepared for what the best my father's army can do."

Katara's eyebrows raised. "Hah! They haven't proved much of themselves so far. Or maybe I shouldn't take you as an example, then?"

"You are so..." He made a strangled sound of pure frustration before turning on his heel, his fragile patience withering. "Fine!" he snapped irately, "We're done. Good luck facing down all the firebenders my father can throw at you."

"With pleasure!"

Zuko's storming out was punctuated by dull thuds as he laid a fist into every pillar he passed. Katara turned away, posture steely. Undisciplined fool. She was more than just _effective! _How dare he insinuate that she was somehow unequipped to handle firebenders! Though, she did have to concede, he had a valuable insider viewpoint. That violent, arrogant, inept mind of his could be a strategic goldmine in the days to come.

She ran her tongue over her teeth, considering. She could hardly deny the value of a firebender's knowledge of their own weaknesses. But submitting to tutoring from _him_.. the very idea raised bile to her throat. Still. It might be useful to Aang, she reasoned reluctantly.

"Just... wait a moment!" She attempted to ignore her painfully stinging pride.

He stopped on the threshold, not turning. "What? I'm not sticking around just to hear your petty insults!" Neither of them faced the other as they shouted across the hall.

Katara ground her jaw. "Well, if you could control your temper for a full minute together, maybe you'd be less likely to attract them!"

"_My_ temper?" Zuko's voice gained volume as his anger gathered momentum. "You didn't control yours when I was on my knees, offering myself to the Avatar as a teacher _and_ his most valuable ally!"

"Valuable? You were a lying traitor who'd crawled out of the forest!" Katara retorted quick as a whip, still facing the cold grey of the bending hall stones. She felt a surge of irrational malice rise up from her throat. "All we did was give you a chance to sabotage us," she added after a pause, words sharp with menace.

Katara heard the wet flap of his garments as he whirled to face her, striding rapidly back across the hall until his nose was parted from the back of her neck only by a child's handspan. "_What_ did you say?" he hissed, dangerously quiet. She felt a heat surge wither a few strands of her long braid. Acrid wisps of smoke trailed into her line of sight.

And here they were again. Cold disdain at such a predictable response from such a predictable adversary curled her lip, smothering the few tendrils of discomfort that tickled the lining of her stomach. This was a encounter that tended to repeat itself, and she'd memorised the steps weeks ago. They could spar together, speak together, eat of the same rice as much as they pleased. As much as it pleased Aang, more accurately.

But when the sun disappeared into the waiting arms of the moon, Zuko was never forgiven, or trustworthy. And she was still resented and disliked in equal measure, it seemed. She wondered if that was ever going to change. The Air temple getting up and moving to the North Pole seemed more likely. It was, inevitably and unavoidably, the way things were.

Katara felt vaguely disheartened, all of a sudden.

Foresight of the next motions in the argument deflated her enthusiasm for it. The embers Zuko had inadvertently blown on mentioning the Earth capital abruptly cooled.

"I didn't say anything. Nothing at all." She stepped sideways to avoid the collision of their chins as she turned to face him. Sunlight was piercing the lazy coils of steam rising from his back, illuminating each speck of condensation. It was a strangely peaceful contrast - a focus certainly more preferable than his stormy expression.

"I _heard_ you, waterbender." Katara wondered if their sparring had been too courteous for him. His tone seemed to be itching for a real fight. The thought that her overly sharp tongue had had something to do with the disappearance of his fragile goodwill made itself quietly and uncomfortably known.

"No," she said firmly, pushing past Zuko to walk back to the square of sun warming the puddles in the open chamber. A snake of water rose from the drenched ground to hover in readiness. "I want to learn whatever it is you can teach me.," She watched indecisiveness roll like a wave across his face, as he slowly turned back to face their haphazard battleground. "For Aang's sake, I'll even learn from _you._ Please?" she added, with only the slightest clench in her jaw.

To her surprise, the annoyance in his face transformed into a moment of genuine injury. It wasn't much, just a drawing in of the eyebrows, a tiny sagging of the shoulders, but she saw it as clearly as the fireballs he'd thrown at her head all morning. He looked down at his sodden boots, hands on his hips. Katara struggled to find a cause for it - there was nothing in their little spat that hadn't been said before, and often in far more spiteful variations. It was simply the way things were. He, more than any of the others, seemed to understand that. But she caught a glimpse of something like resignation in his face, a resignation she'd often felt deeply seated in herself.

And perhaps.. but surely not. But _perhaps_ there was also the smallest hint of loneliness.

A strange reflex triggered in Katara then, the one usually triggered by Aang's expression whenever Sokka mentioned their father these days, and her hand twitched awkwardly towards him.

"I see. I thought we..." he murmured to the ground. The pause lingered on as Katara wracked her brain for a plausible end to that sentence. Thought what? Thought _what?_ Zuko interrupted his own reverie with an angry shake of the head, his shoulders straightening. Chips of newly-gravelled stone clung to his boots as he sloshed back through the chaos they'd wrought on the passive Temple all morning. He hadn't noticed her hand, and she let it fall limply back to her side.

The moment was as fleeting as the curtains of steam still floating above his hair; his eyes hard and normal once more. He pointed an accusing finger at her feet. "We'll begin with stances."

* * *

"Toph! Hey, _Toph!_ Can you see meee!"

The earthbender in question rolled over on her improvised sleeping arrangements; namely, Appa's furry back. He was perched on a precarious outcropping of stone between two giant statues of his ancestors, and the rhythmic rise and fall of his enormous ribcage had lulled her into a delightful lunchtime nap. One that had now been rudely interrupted by an overly energetic airbender making low flying passes over her head. And asking really stupid questions.

"Check it out! Triple barrel roll deluxe! Woooo-yeah!" Toph groaned. The rushing air was making her sleep rapidly slip away into oblivion, replaced by complete alertness. "I'm like a flying demon corkscrew, Toph!"

She stuffed two handfuls of fur into her ears and buried her head into Appa's pelt, to no avail. "Get ready for the late breakout into frontside loop-de-loop, ladies and bison. Here I g- OUCH!" The flier clattered noisily into the bodies of one of the stone creatures, a newly erected wall having disrupted the pilot's flight pattern. Seemingly oblivious to such hints, Aang bounced back up with the help of an airball, and used it to hover over the obstruction and up to Toph's side. "Toph! Toph! I'm back! Look what I found!"

Toph conceded that there was no way she was getting back to sleep now. She ground her teeth as she rose up from her prized spot, the fur having been matted in just the right way for maximum pillowy comfort. She reached out with her senses and took in the shadowy shape of Aang to her right side, unable to trace him clearly while he was airborne.

Hauling him onto Appa's back by the front of his robe, she brought him up close to her bleary, highly irritated expression. "I was just getting comfortable, you bald little insect," she seethed. Raising a fist, she fully intended to deck him a good one when the brush of her shin against something light, delicate, and decidedly out of place on an air bison's back gave her pause.

"What's that?" she asked bluntly, her hand moving from Aang's clothing to feel cautiously in the space between them. The strong, booming heartbeat of the animal below left her 'sight' a little disconcerted.

She felt Aang carefully edge outside of striking distance when she released her grip on him. Still groping fruitlessly, she leaned forward, curiousity momentarily overriding her anger. "C'mon, I'll hold off hitting you in the face.. for now. Just tell me what you've got."

Toph felt something small and leafy being pushed into her hand. She ran her fingertips over the general shape, noting the soft, pliant heads and woody stem. A tree bough, covered in flowers.

Eagerness to extrapolate on his discovery seemed to outweigh self-preservation in Aang's mind, as he jostled back closer to the girl on his knees, pushing more of the plants into her lap.

"Look at them all! They were growing everywhere on the trees. I wish you could see their colour!"

Toph pressed a petal between her thumb and forefinger, feeling a tiny trace of water ooze from the blossom. She sniffed the residue carefully. "No smell," she murmured, before popping the whole thing in her mouth and chewing thoughtfully. Aang gave a surprised shout. "Toph! What are you- "

"Don't worry, Twinkles. There's still plenty left for you to give to her." He seemed to stumble on the rest of his rebuke, sitting back on his heels. She shook her head. So pitifully obvious.

"How did you.. ah, never mind. You _always_ seem to know." He moved to sit cross-legged, leaning back to rest on his hands. Toph felt a brush of air across her brow as he exhaled heavily. His sighs and snorts and laughs were always a little more exaggerated than anyone else's, she had observed, as though he couldn't help pushing more air into everything he did.

"So, will she like them?" he asked quietly. Toph gave a little laugh.

"If by 'like' you mean, will she forgive you and go back to being friends again, then yeah, she will." She picked up a twig and began flicking the flower heads off, one by one. "She's even more mopey than you are lately." A blossom went sailing clean over the airbender's shiny scalp. "Won't shut up about 'making things right' and 'proving herself' and other supremely boring things."

"Really?" Toph was practically swamped by the surge of hopefulness in his voice, and rolled her eyes. "What does she say about me?" he asked in flippant tone that didn't fool her for a moment.

"Oh, the usual," she responded airily. 'Give Aang his clean clothes, Toph,' or 'Toph, is Aang still awake?' or 'Toph, don't put weevils in Aang's rice again!'"

"Ah." He began to twist a lock of fur around his finger. "That's all she says, then." She felt a small prick of conscience at the sound of his hope deflating like an old balloon. Brushing the feeling away as though it were a gnat in her eye, she gathered up the twigs still sprawled on her lap and shoved them back into his arms.

"Just go give them to her, you big dummy." Turning her back to him, she laid down and tried to get somewhat comfortable once more. "Of course she'll like them. She likes stupid, girly things like that. Now let me go back to sleep."

"Fine, fine." He scooped up the last of the willowy boughs and jumped lightly to the ground. There was a pause, then Toph caught the tiny, familiar click of his glider opening. She felt the stirrings of the air as it rose to push him effortlessly upwards. As if he weighed nothing at all and had never been there in the first place.

Toph pulled the half chewed flower out of her mouth and slung it over the edge of the precipice. "They aren't even tasty, you know!" she shouted in impotent, inexplicable frustration as she heard him swoop away. She buried her head in Appa's fur once more, unable to feel the niche on his broad body that had felt so cradling and soft.

Mere moments had passed before she felt a breezy gust ripple over her. She stiffened as something gently poked at her ear.

"That's because they're not for eating, dummy," he whispered, laughing a little in that airy way he had. His breath ruffled some loose hair onto her face. And as quickly as he had come, he was gone.

She reached up cautiously to feel the side of her head. A little sprig was tucked above her ear. "Hmph. So annoying," she said quietly, voice muffled. Her grin was safely hidden.

***

The pellets of water whistled slightly as they cleaved the air. Dark, orange afternoon sun was fractured and fragmented through the tiny prisms as they circled in ominous orbit around Zuko's body, poised to strike. Beads of sweat trickled down Katara's temple down to the corner of her mouth, to be removed impatiently by her tongue. A red line was pressed into her lower lip, where her teeth had worked to create a furrow.

Zuko's shoulder tensed. His hand lifted in the beginnings of a fiery arc, and she caught her breath. The watery missiles suddenly leapt from their static positions to splat noisily over his chest and shoulders. Katara straightened, tightening her tunic belt smugly.

"Again." Zuko expelled a cloud of flame over his arms, drying them imperfectly. Waving the billows of steam away from his face, he walked forward. "And again, and again, until you listen to me."

The serenely satisfied smirk slid off her face like an ice cube off a tea tray. "I am listening! I've done nothing _but_ listen! I know I did it perfectly that time!" She stepped into the steam cloud, brushing the diminishing moisture out of the air. Zuko made a clipped, irritated sound somewhere between a growl and sigh.

"Do you even understand the concept - "

"I've trained the Avatar for a year, Zuko. I had to teach myself waterbending. I _think_ I can grasp this," Katara replied indignantly, lending a little more force to the retort than she'd intended to. She could feel the beginning of a tremble in her hands. In truth, her utter failure to to instantly perfect the new technique was gnawing at her composure. She knew this would happen, the day all her combative bravado before Zuko would be punctured. She could feel the minutes ticking over like a countdown, drawing inexorably towards the moment when her secret shame could no longer go unacknowledged.

She was no prodigy. She was not naturally gifted at bending. Despite her belief she'd broken the habit long ago, all the old comparisons between herself and Zuko's other pupil were bubbling to the surface like sulphur in a swamp. He'd eventually see the contrast, and he'd _know. _

The bitter chorus of '_useless, useless_' grew in volume.

Ignoring the dryness forming at the back of her mouth, she crossed her arms tightly. "Maybe you're not explaining it correctly."

His eyes narrowed. "Maybe you're not listening!"

"I'm listening and listening and listening, Zu- "

"Are you just trying to waste time; another one of your games or something? Why are you struggling on something so simple!"

The last wisps of condensation froze where they floated, and fell to the ground in a tinkling shower in sync with the clenching of her fists. "I'm not... I'm not _struggling!" _she retorted angrily, eyes addressing the ceiling. Her throat constricted painfully. Turning away, she attempted to surreptitiously wipe her eyes clear, berating herself inwardly. Now, of all times? What was _wrong_ with her? "I'm not trying to waste time," she added in a quieter tone, unable to completely disguise a minute wobble in her voice, much to her mortification.

A lengthy pause lingered on before Zuko spoke again. Whether he had seen her overly bright eyes or not, he made no indication. "I knew you'd be a frustrating student," he said with a long-suffering sigh, though there was no malice in his voice.

"Well!" she flared again, still stinging from her lapse in control. "You're quite welcome to give up, teacher!"

"Who said anything about giving up?" He seemed irritated by the thought of it. "We're not giving up. We've only just started."

Katara pointedly ignored a tiny thrill of relief at his frank retort, and at the bull-headed stubbornness she saw in the set of his jaw. She cleared her throat and adjusted her arm wrappings quickly, ashamed of her moment of frustrated weakness. She needed to control herself, to concentrate. If Zuko was willing to push on despite her slow learning curve, then she could hardly accept less from herself. There would be no admitting defeat to _him_. "Well, I'm ready to go again," she stated in a purposefully clear voice. "You should go back to the position."

"Wait. Maybe I'm really not explaining it right." She looked up, surprised at such an admission. He was frowning thoughtfully at his hands. "You're too inexperienced with fire to really know what I'm talking about."

Katara smoothed her scraggly, wet hair over the top of her head with a sigh. "Look," she replied, struggling to keep her tone cooperative. "I'm sure it's hard to accept that your bending isn't all that mysterious, but I get it. It's all in the timing." She shifted her weight into a lunging Tui stance, looking at him pointedly. "I just need to nail the technique."

"But it's more than that." He looked up, straight into her gaze. There was a note of impotent frustration in his voice that stood at odds with the earnestness in his expression. He took two steps towards her. Katara expelled an oddly shaky breath. "Here." And before she could protest, he had quickly snatched one of the hands lingering in air, pulled her towards him, and pressed the palm against his abdomen.

She blinked, momentarily frozen. "Sorry," he murmured in an awkward rasp. "But it's the quickest way to show you." Under her immobile fingertips, she could feel the minute vibrations of his torso as he spoke.

His ribs expanded and contracted gently with every breath. As her mind focused once more, she registered the heat warming her palm through the cloth. Too warm, in fact. Hot. "Zuko? My hand. You're, well... you're burning it." She nodded to the extremity he currently held prisoner.

He looked down, as though somewhat surprised she had noticed anything amiss with burning skin. The temperature against her hand dropped immediately. Katara cleared her throat. "Is there a purpose to this? Am I supposed to be doing something?" She threw her braid over her shoulder and tried to ignore the sudden sweatiness of her unaccommodated palm.

Zuko seemed slightly flustered. "Just try and feel... something. When I breathe."

Katara looked at the hand pinned to Zuko's middle. Or more accurately, the hand enclosing it, as though she wasn't trusted not to escape contact at the first opportunity. "Well, I do, obviously." She sniffed. "It's just your ribs moving in and out."

"Not that." Zuko looked pointedly over her shoulder, the faintest red touching his unmarred cheek. "Behind them. There's something behind them." The tip of his boot began tapping erratically at the floor.

Katara looked up in alarm. "Look, you aren't trying to get me to say you have a - a _heart_ like everyone else or something like that, are you? Because I don't think- "

"No!" The red tinge crept higher on his face, and her hand was flung unceremoniously back to her possession. "You're hopeless!" He threw his arms up as he wheeled around and retreated, almost rushing to put distance between them.

Her fingers cooled almost instantly. "You're the one not explaining yourself! What am I supposed to be feeling! I'm not going to grope blindly around your chest in the hopes of a revelation!"

His arms folded almost protectively over his middle, his hands gripping the opposite elbow in a white-knuckled hold. "Just forget it." He scoffed and shook his head, eyes on the ceiling. "Even untrained children can find a flame rhythm."

Katara's eyes narrowed. "The what?"

Zuko was already walking back to his puddle-ringed position. "Explaining it properly would require time that I'd rather be using to train Aang." He glanced at her once more, before turning away with a frown tinged with a slight disappointment. "I'm taking a break."

"Hold on. You mean.." Inner flame. Was there a fire constantly _alight_ inside every firebender? She scrolled back rapidly through every instance she had seen a firebender in combat- at least, the moments she hadn't been concentrating solely on saving her life. Jeong Jeong's wall of fire, the mad princess and her terrifying lightning, Zuko... quite often. Their encounter at the North Pole seemed to figure prominently in her memory; she'd often thought back on that night. Perhaps because there had been no distractions, no running, just a duel between equals. Even though she intimately recalled the painful squeezing of her chest in a vice of fear for Aang, she'd certainly learned the real measure of her skills in the face of his imminent danger.

Her mind's eye could recall all of Zuko's attacks and parries easily enough considering the amount of times she'd thought back on their scrapping. Thinking on it now, Katara attempted to fit in the idea of an inner fuel, of some kind of internal source to Zuko's attacks as they had fought in the moonlit cove. "Your hand came down -" she made a chopping motion in the air, frowning. " - and you paused."

"What are you talking about?" Zuko balanced himself with a lazy grace on one foot to dislodge his boot from the other. Water sloshed noisily onto the stone as it was upended. "My hand came down when?"

"But why did you pause?" Katara slowly pulled her braid back over her shoulder and began to chew it absently. Too caught up in her sudden theorising, she missed Zuko wrinkling his nose. The timing.. something in the timing. She had long known of the minute pauses in his combative motions, likely invisible to any but those who had whiled away many a long, solitary night-watch by doggedly recalling and combing his style for weaknesses to exploit. The timing of those pauses were like clockwork in their regularity. Like the push and pull of a bellows. His own bellows...

The breath. Breathing. He was breathing. "You were just _breathing!" _Katara looked up, flinging the soggy plait to the side.

"I was?" he queried cautiously. Katara strode forward, eyes wide and shining. Zuko stumbled, half-shod, as she clapped a palm triumphantly to his chest.

"You always had to pause to inhale again. That's why timing is so important." She nodded, teeth worrying her lower lip again, mind in a frenzy to connect the patterns she had observed but never understood in his fighting. "The strength of your attacks depend on your breath! A-ha!" she concluded, stabbing a finger into his pectoral muscle for emphasis.

Zuko, having righted himself, tilted his face towards hers with narrowed eyes. "Hmm. And what else?"

"And.. the flame must be connected to your breath somehow. Like a - a _fuel_, sort of." She gave the middle of his chest a smart tap. "In here, somewhere, your fire is created. You can strengthen it with breath and bring it out with bending techniques." She grinned with unguarded and smug jubilation. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"Well. That's surprising. Not as useless as I thought." He raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realise waterbenders were capable of so much thinking in such a short time."

"What are you insinuating – oh." She was cut short by the appearance of a highly foreign glimmer of merriment in Zuko's expression. "Oh, I see. You were trying to make a joke. Well, you're just as terrible at those as you are at teaching."

"And _you're_ just as terrible at detecting a joke as you are at obeying instructions."

"Hmph," she grumbled, unable to strictly deny the accusation. "Well, I'm amazed I noticed such a poor sense of humour at all."

"You're well practiced. You grew up in the Water Tribes."

An ungainly guffawing laugh escaped Katara before she could rein it in, much to her horror. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stepped back quickly, suddenly and acutely aware of their prolonged proximity. Zuko merely continued to pull on his waterlogged boot, his actions unperturbed. His expression betrayed a slightly victorious air however.

Katara cleared her throat haughtily, attempting to regain a degree of cool aloofness. "I think you ought to be continuing my training. No time for standing around, listening to your foolishness. I've got things to be getting on with, you know."

"Oh, don't worry," he replied casually, not even looking at her as he firmly retied the maroon knots around his calf. "The real training begins now." There was a dangerous edge in his voice that left warning bells ringing in Katara's ears. She swallowed.

"Right." Her voice sounded a little tinny. "Let's have it, then."

Zuko straightened. His smile was like that of a python-weasel about to sink its teeth into a juicy, helpless mouse.


End file.
